


You Are Not Unavenged

by Romiress



Category: Batman: Under the Red Hood (2010)
Genre: Death in the Family Followup, Drama, Gen, Joker is DEAD, as he Deserves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:00:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27531142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romiress/pseuds/Romiress
Summary: Talia told him that his death was unavenged, but the Joker's still dead.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 12
Kudos: 252





	You Are Not Unavenged

The words haunt him, even in the months afterward. They're like a bell run next to his ear, the ringing reverberating through his skull.

Inescapable.

_You remain unavenged._

Simple words. Easy words. Words that drove him for the past few months. Drove him to train, to exercise, to get back to his peak. Words that told him everything he needed to know.

Words that told him that the Joker still lived. Words that told him that Bruce had put his _code_ before his _son._

Jason would like to say it was surprising, but it wasn't.

But now, standing in Gotham, the words haunt him in another way.

The Joker is dead.

That's what everyone's been saying, the message downright universal in a way that rumors rarely are. The Joker was killed, his body burned and ashes scattered. He has no grave, no place for those who consider him some sort of symbol to congregate at.

But he's dead.

Jason's made sure of it.

He's broken into the coroner's office and read the reports. He's seen the pictures. He's sleuthed through every bit of evidence, every possible rumor. The whole of Gotham was jumping at shadows for months, but now even that has passed.

The Joker is really dead.

Someone—never identified by either police or rumors—killed him so violently that what killed him wasn't even clear.

And yet Talia's words were so confident: _you remain unavenged._

He discards the possibility she was mistaken. It's a pointless thought, because the League of Assassins wouldn't make a mistake as simple as whether or not the Joker was dead. There's some other meaning, he's just not seeing it.

And Jason knows that the only way he _is_ going to see it is to see Bruce. He should have gone straight to the manor from the very beginning and confronted Bruce there. He just hadn't felt ready, and now, months down the line from his arrival, he feels stupid for having put it off at all.

He knows it's the only way, but he still makes himself wait. He waits until the anniversary of his death before he makes his way to the manor, his heart filled with dread.

He should be looking forward to it. He should be excited.

Instead, the horror threatens to choke him. He fears what he's going to find, but struggles to imagine it. It seems impossible that the Joker _just so happened_ to be killed two days after his death. It seems impossible to even imagine that some random civilian would have such rage in their heart towards the Joker and took it out so soon after Jason's death.

And yet Talia's words still linger, impossible to explain.

He slips onto the grounds before dark, watching the way lights go on and off as people move about the house. Alfred and Bruce, most likely, and Jason waits until night's fallen and Alfred should be in bed before he heads towards the study. The light's on inside, and has been for almost a half hour. Most likely Bruce is reading, or maybe working. It doesn't really matter. Jason knows his way past the security systems, and it isn't long before he's there, standing at the window, staring in.

For a moment Jason thinks that Bruce _is_ reading. He's sitting by a chair, a book in his lap, but as he watches he realizes that he's mistaken. Bruce doesn't flip the pages, staring at nothing.

He is lost in his own head, but Jason won't let him stay there.

He slips the window latch open from the outside—there's only one window in the entire house with that specific _flaw,_ left intentionally so that Bruce can return to the manor even if the cave's blocked off—and lets himself in. The moment the latch clicks, Bruce's head snaps up, eyes going wide as he sees a figure standing framed by the library's large window.

"Who—"

He doesn't even get to a second word. A moment later, just who he's looking at registers.

Jason isn't wearing a mask, after all. He'd debated a helmet or a mask, but that seems counter productive to him. He _wants_ Bruce to see him. He wants to see Bruce's face when faced with his dead ward for the first time in years. He wants to see how he reacts, and in that regard, Bruce doesn't let him down. His expression is pure shock, leaving no doubt in Jason's mind that Bruce had no idea he was alive.

The al Ghul's had kept his secret.

"Jason."

The word is quiet and breathless, as if Jason's very existence is the greatest sucker punch Bruce has ever received. His eyes are so _wide,_ staring without comprehension, and then something breaks the spell and he shakes his head.

"No," he says hastily. "This isn't— I'm seeing things. You're dead."

"Significantly less dead than you thought."

Jason isn't sure what he expected. For Bruce to immediately read his mind and announce why Talia was wrong? For him to... to something?

He doesn't know. He's not sure how he expected any of it to go. Really, he feels like every day since he left the al Ghul's and learned the truth has been nothing but a swirl of confusion.

Bruce stares, his eyes searching for an explanation that he isn't going to find.

"Tell me something only you would know," Bruce says. Jason bristles at the idea of having to _prove_ himself, but Bruce isn't going to talk unless he does.

"You hide snacks you don't want Alfred to know about behind some books in your study. Lower left."

Bruce makes a painful, strained noise. He knows, now. But there are still so many _questions._

But Jason's questions come first.

"I want to know what you did after I died."

Bruce flinches at the mention of it. He clearly doesn't want to think about Jason's death, let alone talk about it, but Jason isn't going to give him the option.

"How did you even come back? Jason, you were dead. I buried you, and now you're here—"

"Answer my question, Bruce." He tries not to sound agitated, but he is. He's waited so long, and now he's so close to his _answers._

Bruce hesitates for a long moment, seeming to chew on his tongue as his eyes roam, looking anywhere but Jason. Uncomfortable. Because of him? Because he's back?

"Answer."

"I brought you back home. I buried you—"

"What happened to the _Joker_ after I died?"

Jason swears Bruce goes paler, his entire body going stiff at the mention. Bruce is acting like _he_ was the one murdered by the bastard, not Jason. Like the knowledge that the Joker even existed at all is a painful memory.

And every word of their conversation leads Jason down to the obvious conclusion: Jason _wasn't_ avenged. Not by Bruce.

Bruce wasn't the one who pulled the trigger.

Who then? Dick? That seems like a possibility, although Jason doesn't think Dick would have defied Bruce so openly.

"You didn't kill him." Jason doesn't mean to say it. The words just slip out, his voice already starting to rise. How did he not realize? How did he not come to this conclusion earlier, that of _course_ Bruce wouldn't kill the Joker? Was he as in denial as Bruce?

"Jason, please, you just got back—"

Any attempt at keeping himself under control is thrown out the window. Jason snaps, his voice becoming an all out yell.

"You didn't kill him, did you? He _killed_ me, and you let him live. You let him get away."

Bruce's distress is so raw and obvious, impossible to ignore, and yet it does nothing to calm the rage burning in Jason's heart.

He thought that all he wanted was the Joker dead. He _thought_ that was enough. Now he realizes his mistake: the Joker being dead isn't the important part. What matters is who's doing it, and why.

What matters is that Bruce, the person who was the one who cared for him the most in the world, didn't care enough to avenge him.

The library door slams open, and Alfred steps in, shotgun in hand. He's obviously responding to the yelling, and yet the scene he finds himself walking in on is not what anyone could possibly have expected. Jason, very much alive, standing just in front of Bruce, his face almost purple with rage.

Bruce, silent but slack jawed, struggling to find a response that will satisfy Jason.

It's a fool's errand.

Nothing ever will.

"Master Jason?"

Alfred's voice cracks just like Bruce's did. Really, Jason supposes he should be shocked that he's being recognized at all. He's years older, he's gained a foot and a half of height and more than a hundred pounds, and yet neither Alfred nor Bruce has any trouble recognizing him.

Alfred's presence does more to temper his anger than anything Bruce could have done, and Jason makes a strangled noise, turning away from Bruce. Stupid. Not even Bruce, but _him._ Stupid for thinking Bruce would do it, that he would abandon his _rule_ for Jason.

"What is _happening?"_ Alfred asks, glancing between the two of them, absolutely bewildered. "Is that really...?"

"It's me, Al," Jason says, the cold of his anger still there even if the fire of it's gone out. "I just came to say goodbye."

That's the inevitable truth, isn't it? Talia was right: he remains unavenged, and Jason can't imagine anything as miserable as staying in the house with a man who wouldn't even kill the fucking _Joker_ for him.

"Goodbye?" Alfred looks devastated, and Jason averts his eyes, uncomfortable. A part of him wishes he hadn't seen Alfred. Seeing him at all hurts, especially in the current context. Better to deal with Bruce alone than have to face Alfred's disappointment.

"Someone told me, after I came back, that I remain unavenged. I thought they were lying, and I came to find out the truth. Now I have it. Now I _know,_ and I'm not going to stay in this house one more fucking hour with someone who wouldn't even put a bullet through the Joker's skull for me."

"Then you should stay."

Bruce's words catch him off guard, and Jason's head snaps around, eyes narrowing.

"I'm not—"

"I didn't kill the Joker. I couldn't make myself do it, and that's something I'll have to live with for the rest of my life. But I wasn't the only one who cared about you, Jason. Other people cared about you a great deal, and one of them did exactly what you wanted."

One of them.

Jason turns slowly to look at Alfred, still framed in the doorway, the shotgun under his arm.

Alfred, who's always been able to defend himself.

Alfred, who's always been there for him.

Alfred, who _killed the Joker._

Talia was wrong: he _was_ avenged, just not by the person he thought.


End file.
